


How Does Tomorrow Sound?

by Plus1STR



Series: Someday [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cartinelli - Freeform, F/F, Femslash, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3476879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plus1STR/pseuds/Plus1STR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to 'Someday'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Does Tomorrow Sound?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Português brasileiro available: [Como Amanhã Soa?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391191) by [Rosetta (Melime)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melime/pseuds/Rosetta)



Peggy didn’t have the time to grieve; she knew that all too well. She had to get back to work, she had to, but she couldn’t will herself to break from Jarvis’ hold or stop the hot tears that continued to silently roll down her cheeks. When Steve went down in the plane crash, there was no body to bury; there had been no form of closure. And Chief Dooley threw himself out of a window and was gone in a flash leaving nothing, not even a scrap a fabric, behind. Peggy couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ — bury another empty coffin. Not again. Not for Angie.

Peggy’s hands tightly gripped Jarvis’ forearms as she stood, forcing her legs to stop shaking beneath her. Jarvis offered her the handkerchief from his jacket pocket and Peggy carefully wiped her tears and running makeup from face. She closed her eyes and released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her mind was made up and no one— not Jarvis, not Thompson or Sousa, not the other agents— could stop her.

“Mr. Jarvis, I need to—”

“I’ll bring the car around,” he interrupted.

Jarvis had come to know Peggy well enough to understand there was no stopping her once she put herself on a path; especially if that path led her to Angie. Edwin Jarvis was no fool, not about matters such as this. He was privy to Peggy’s feelings for the waitress; the longing looks Peggy gave Angie while at the dinner, the lingering contact when their hands would brush, the smile Peggy reserved solely for Angie. Peggy, without even realizing it, often spoke of Angie as if the woman had hung every star in the sky by hand. Angie Martinelli was the one thing in Peggy’s life that kept her tethered to the ground; her one good thing.

In truth, Jarvis himself was quite fond of Angie. She was polite and well-mannered and her sunny disposition, despite all the woman had likely been through during the Depression and wartime, reminded him of his wife in their younger years. She appreciated the little, finer things; a quality Jarvis always cared for. From what Jarvis caught from Peggy’s phone call, the worst had occurred, but there was a job that needed to be done and, by some stroke of luck, he held himself together; if not for his own sake, for Peggy’s.

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy spoke to his retreating figure.

She braced herself against the wall for a moment before stepping out into the distraught atmosphere of the main office floor; it was going to take hours to sort out the office properly and get it back to its usual state of efficiency. Sousa locked eyes with her and gave her a brief nod when she passed by, but Thompson’s voice stopped her before she could leave.

“Carter, where are you off to at a time like this?” His voice wasn’t accusatory like it normally was; it was tired, worn out. The trip to and from Russia and witnessing Chief Dooley’s sacrifice had taken a toll on him.

“There’s a rather pressing matter I need to attend to.”

“Right at this moment?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He fiddled with a badge dusted with wall plaster beside his notepad— likely filled with what to say to Dooley’s wife— and eyed her cautiously, taking note of her still red rimmed eyes. After what he’d seen in Russia and the trouble she gave he and the other agents while trying to subdue her, he knew whatever it was that forced tears out of Agent Carter had to have been her tipping point.

“Don’t forget your badge,” he replied, wiping the metal clean against his shirt before tossing it to her. Nothing more needed to be said; Peggy gave him a nod, turned on her heels, and left.

Jarvis was waiting in the car as promised and as soon as Peggy took and seat and closed the door, he sped off. The sidewalks were packed with curious onlookers and news reported, but their images blurred into nothing more than lines of colour. Jarvis had driven so quickly that Peggy couldn’t focus on any one thing at a time and it only took a matter of minutes before Jarvis abruptly hit the brakes and skidded in front of the Griffith.

The two exited the car and quickly climbed the front steps, all but bombarding their way into the building the same way Thompson and Sousa had the day before. Miriam Fry wasn’t the least bit pleased to see Peggy, especially after the commotion she caused in her sanctuary, but she remained silent when Peggy flashed the woman her badge paired with a deadly glare. She reluctantly waved them through and Peggy bolted up the stairwell while Jarvis waited patiently for the elevator.

Peggy drew her weapon and stopped in front of Angie’s door; the doorknob was loose, the door was frayed as if it had been kicked in, and the faint sound of static came from within. She gently pushed the door open and took a step in, doing a quick visual sweep of her surroundings before her eyes landed on Angie.

_Des yeux qui font baisser les miens_  
_Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche_  
_Voilà le portrait sans retouche_  
_De l’homme auquel j’appartiens_

There was Angie, tied down in a chair; her head was lolled off to the side and Peggy could clearly see the large red stain that worked its way down Angie’s uniform. Peggy rushed to her, quickly unbinding Angie’s wrists and feet from their holds before examining Angie’s limp body. Dottie hadn’t gone for the usual headshot— something that struck Peggy as odd; she thought perhaps Dottie never intended on killing Angie, that perhaps some part of Dottie—however small it was— was still human. Instead, Dottie shot Angie twice in the shoulder through and through; the bullets that passed through Angie’s body were lodged within the wall not too far behind her.

Peggy held her body tightly in her arms, rocking back and forth almost in tune to the faded song that played on the radio.

_C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie,  
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie_

_Et dès que je l'aperçois_  
_Alors je sens en moi_  
_Mon cœur qui bat_

Jarvis stood in the doorway and watched Peggy’s fingertips traveled from the injury along Angie’s shoulders and to her neck; the woman’s skin wasn’t nearly as cold as it should have been. When Peggy’s eyes widened and her movement froze, Jarvis kneeled down in front of her, trying to find an answer on her face.

“She’s—” Peggy stopped herself and pressed her fingertips a bit harder to Angie’s pulse point, letting them linger there for a few seconds.

_Des nuits d’amour à plus finir_  
_Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place_  
_Les ennuis, les chagrins s’effacent_  
_Heureux, heureux à en mourir_

_Quand il me prend dans ses bras_  
_Il me parle tout bas_  
_Je vois la vie en rose_

“Hospital. _Now_ ,” Peggy commanded as she stood with Angie’s body still in her arms.

“Is she…?” Jarvis questioned, helping Peggy lift Angie up and getting her out of the door.

“Just barely.”

_Il est entré dans mon coeur_  
_Une part de bonheur_  
_Dont je connais la cause_

When Jarvis and Peggy reached the lobby carrying a bloody Angie, madness ensued. Miss Fry nearly fainted; strings of chaos took place under her roof and her watchful eye without her knowledge. The women that lingered in the lobby followed them to the door, spouting questions a mile a minute, but Peggy brushed them off; her main priority was Angie’s welfare.

Peggy sat in the back of the car with Angie’s head in her lap as Jarvis drove recklessly through the New York streets to the hospital under Peggy’s order; if Peggy were driving, she would have likely driven straight through the hospital doors and held anyone at gunpoint if they so much as batted an eyelash at her behavior.

Peggy stayed at Angie’s bedside for three days; the only time she ever moved was to use the bathroom and even then she was reluctant to move. Sousa had stopped by once to briefly to go over details and case files with Peggy; he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find out that Angie had lied through her teeth when he and Thompson questioned her about Peggy. Jarvis visited as frequently as he could, often to make sure Peggy ate something other than crackers and water.

One the third day, Peggy had fallen asleep with her head resting against a small space on Angie’s bed with her fingers laced between the unconscious woman’s own. It was a small twitch from Angie’s hand that woke her up.

Peggy sat upright quickly, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes, and searched Angie’s face for something, anything, more. Angie’s eyes tracked back and worth underneath the lids before they slowly began to open. Her face scrunched up tightly as the light from the room burned her eyes; she blinked through it until her eyes adjusted and her focus fixed on the tiled ceiling. Angie attempted to sit up, but Peggy’s hand against her forearm stopped her.

“Try not to move, darling. You’re going to be very sore,” Peggy whispered, giving Angie’s arm a soft rub.

When Angie’s gaze fell on Peggy, she tried to speak, but the only sound that came out had been a dry, raspy cough. Peggy got up from her chair and fetched a cup of water, watching as Angie sipped on it slowly; her lips curved into a small smile in thanks.

“How are you feeling?” Peggy asked as she sat back down.

Angie’s squinted eyes traveled around the room before settling back on Peggy. She sat silently for a moment, a thoughtful expression taking over her face. She licked her lips, smiling just as brightly as she normally would at the automat. “Hungry.”

 Peggy laughed, again intertwining her fingers with Angie’s. “Really?”

“I was promised a cobbler, was I not?”

Now Peggy was smiling. She raised Angie’s hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

“And schnapps. What kind of date is this, English?”

“You’re impossible.”

When the doctors finished examining Angie and checking her stitches, Peggy took a deep breath and finally explained everything; her time during the war, her work at the SSR, what happened to her old roommate, Jarvis, Howard, Dottie’s involvement, all of it. When she finished, the two sat in silence and Peggy was certain Angie wouldn’t want to see her again as the actress’ gaze was directed at the ceiling.

Angie let out a sigh and broke the silence. “So, how’s tomorrow sound?”

“Tomorrow?” Peggy’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

“Mhm.” Angie nodded, squeezing Peggy’s hand. “Kinda prefer pie though.”

“Pie?”

“Rhubarb if ya let me get picky about it.”

“Oh… Oh!” Redness crept across Peggy’s cheeks as she caught on to what Angie had been referring to. “You— Tomorrow?” Peggy questioned again; she had to be certain.

“Yeah, English. Tomorrow. You payin’ attention?”

“Of course I am. Always.” She nodded firmly, earning a grin from Angie.

“Well?” At this point, Angie was just teasing Peggy.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> You guys didn't really think I'd just let Angie die, did you?
> 
> The italicized song lyrics are from 'La Vie en Rose' by Edith Piaf.


End file.
